


Will You Be The Melody To My Symphony

by Hisokafucker69



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Affectionate Insults, I'll add tags when they're introduced, M/M, Massage, Music AU, Musician!Haikyuu, Other fill in characters too, Shoulder Massage, Slow Build, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisokafucker69/pseuds/Hisokafucker69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru Oikawa, professional violinist, gets put on a task to combine with his least favoured genre of music, 'Rock', with the guitarist Hajime Iwaizumi. Despite the slow start, it is discovered that the two together are the most wonderful duo. Bonded by music, the two begin to grow closer and closer, bouncing off each other too well, despite their usual confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Starts With A Song

**Author's Note:**

> It's me, back again with a Haikyuu AU that has taken over my life tbh? Musician!Haikyuu,  
> Ohohohoho!  
> Okay so this is my first Iwaoi fanfic, which is rather surprising because it's my favourite pairing in the franchise? But as a musician this AU has been so much fun to write and mess with? The idea of a snobby violinist Oikawa makes me so happy, I don't know about you? 
> 
> ~THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE READING~
> 
> \- This fic will contain a lot of music lingo and words that people who aren't musicians may be a little confused about. PLEASE DON'T LET THAT PUT YOU OFF! There will only be a few occasional words and things here and there, and it will be mainly focussing on the plot, but if you are insecure on any words I use feel free to google them, and who knows maybe you'll become more intrested in music? ;3c  
> \- I use the name 'Konji Kondo' as Oikawa's favourite composer, and the composer who organises the task. Konji is actually a Nintendo composer who made a lot of the music for the early Legend of Zelda and Pokemon games! I'm a real fan of their franchises and used his name because the games mean a lot to me! In this fic he will not be a video games composer however.  
> \- The arrangement that inspired the final part of this chapter [ https://youtu.be/_Hki338ZDmQ ] and I would recommend listening to it while reading, however I did make adaptions in this story so it is a little different!  
> \- I would love to hear what you think other characters in Haikyuu play? Personally, because I relate to Nishinoya so much I imagine him playing the trumpet like myself? I'd love to hear some ideas though!  
> \- I really hope you enjoy? Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated because tbh they really motivate me to continue writing? But yeah I hope you enjoyyyyyy  
> (PS: it's v gay)

Tooru Oikawa. Professional violinist. Studied music from a young age, brought up with music always around him; it's almost like a necessity like food or water for him to hear music at breakfast, practice at lunch and dinner, and listen to classical hits just before bed, a routine of sorts.

Of course it wasn't all music, he used to do sport and hide his bestowing talent from friends and people in general, because if people ask, ‘ _What do you do in your spare time?’_ and you return with the answer, ‘ _I play violin_ ’ you're going to sound like a bit of a pansy, and Oikawa was not what anyone would see as a pansy. He was over 6” with perfectly bouncy dusky chocolate hair that fell perfectly to frame his pale face, large brown eyes and a smile that could make anyone’s heart melt; described as a ‘saint’ by those who didn't know him well enough, but competing orchestras or violinists hated his guts, his talent, but mainly his shitty personality.

Tooru basked in it, however.

He was known as a solo violin who could make any piece from any orchestra, string quartet or any band sound like a professional philharmonic. On occasion, he was hired to play with younger bands, and even begged by parents to teach their kids, but all in all Tooru Oikawa didn't like to roll that way.

Every compliment, every smile, every applause, every standing ovation padded more and more to his ego, made his smile bigger, made his fingers move with even more velocity.

He craved it, and boy did it make him feel good.

Oikawa was known to appreciate the majority of music, anything that could star the violin: classical, jazz, even older pieces that could be arranged in his favour. But there was one genre that Oikawa despised, one which he hated more than any other: rock, hard rock. _'Why would anyone listen to it? It is too loud, no good dynamic contrast, it isn't even music. Not only are people wrecking their vocal chords by attempting to sing along, but they are defacing the whole point of music, which is to listen, and surely you can't listen to that shit without your ears bleeding.'_ His words always echoed absentmindedly as he altered radio stations, or even thought of music - it was his worst nightmare.

#

The top apartment in the middle of a crowded city was always Oikawa’s dream, always something that played itself in his mind and kept him clinging on through high school, and college, and past life in general. Getting to see people for what they were, small, but getting to see the sky and the top of each building, so when he did stand and practice upon his balcony, it was like performing to the Gods.

A yawn scampered through his skin, and tried to push through the curve of his mouth, his lanky arms stretching as he turned his head, his glossy locks lifting with the light wind. “A morning like this? A perfect time to practice ‘Violin concerto in A minor’.” An imponderous laugh grazed the back of his throat, but his eyes lacked the usual big brown life that glazed his irises. Oikawa wasn't one for living alone, sure he got practice done, sure he had no one to complain about his ‘lack of modesty’ and ‘arrogance’ and ‘worthless pride’, but in the end he was isolated. The comfort of people around him made him happy, and annoyingly clingy. But alone he also tended to forget to do the basics, obviously pampering was mandatory, but he did forget to eat on occasion, unless someone invited him out for dinner, which does occur countlessly.

 _'Alone at the top of an apartment building, how cliché.’_ He'd often think to himself.

_‘Maybe if I’m here long enough someone will sweep me off my feet.’_

As much as he hated to despise his own splendid isolation, he was lonely, and only the occasional call from his manager gave another echo of a reassurance in his apartment.

Quickly, Oikawa turned on the view, and returned back into the living room, his eyes locked with his violin case which was peppered with cute stickers, and musical quotes or lyrics he’d found over the years, some stickers were peeling off, and curled around the rims, the colour slightly faded from the times he’d had to run in the rain with only his violin strapped to his back.

 _Ring ring_.

Oikawa’s ears pricked, and excitement fumbled through his fingers, but the short bliss was interrupted by a vibration against his thigh. Reluctantly, he breached into his pocket and curled his fingers around his phone, lavishing the metallic feel before bringing it out of his pocket and squinting at the received message.

 **UshijimaDESPERATE-IDIOT** : _sent a message._

_Shiratorizawa Orchestra is rehearsing again this week on the 3rd, we would love you to come along and be our solo violinist, to be with people who actually deserve your talent._

A grumble erupted through the violinist’s lips, and his thumbs began to angrily return a message.

_EXUUUUUUUUUUUSE ME, Ushijima-chan!~ Insulting all my bands and rehearsals like this is really mean!!! (╯︵╰,) You should stop being so mean, im never ever coming to your SHITtorizawa! Even if you payed me!!! ヽ（´ー｀）┌_

Looking rather pleased with himself, he pressed the enter button, his tongue resting on the corner of his bottom lip, but his victory was short and sweet as a vibration met his palm. Eyebrows furrowed, he checked the message.

_We were planning to pay you._

His eyes twitched, and his lips curled into an angry pout as he began to reply with another message.

_IDIOT. CAAANT YOU READ?!?! I SAID ‘EVEN IF YOU PAYED ME’ (」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣ now leave me alone! Im never going to your SHITTY orchestra ever, i don't want to play with your AWFUL cello! Now please delete my number, i don't even know how you got it in the first place! Byeee~(⌒_⌒;)_

This had been going on for awhile, ever since Oikawa got payed to perform in a cello and violin duet over a year ago Ushijima hasn't stopped clamming messages down his throat.

His head turned over to his landline, and he almost hit himself remembering someone had been ringing him before that shit began messaging him. Craving company was hard when all the responses you ever get are from a desperate cellist and your manager who’s probably trying to get you to teach some talentless child for too much money; Oikawa didn't hate money, but any price was too high for something he absolutely despised, whether the kid was never going to get anywhere because their fingers were too chubby, or if they were a genius and could rival himself in the future, both of which made him want to break whatever awful brand of violin they owned.

_Ring ring._

_‘Thank God.’_ Oikawa thought to himself, as he turned on his feet and reached rather gracefully for the phone; for someone so lanky he was quite graceful.

“Hello there? This is Tooru Oikawa speaking, how may I assist?” A line that was obviously freshly rehearsed on his tongue, a line that made him sound so sweet and bubbly like an angel had fell from heaven, he was incredibly sickly sweet, but that's what people liked about him.

“Hello, it's your manager speaking.” The woman replied, her voice stern like she knew what she was going to say without fault.

The slight glimpse of hope that someone had called him to meet up crawled into a corner of his brain and died, and he let out a sharp exhale before continuing.

“Mm? What awfuuul project do you have for me this time?” His voice had dropped, the sickly sweetness was replaced by a bitter bite against his tongue, despite the cute pronunciations remaining to curl his vowels.

“Actually, I’d say this is the best project you've been asked for. The famous Kojo Kon-”

“-The Kojo Kondo?” Oikawa overlapped, his eyes widening with excitement just at the name. A childhood hero. The best composer known to man (in Oikawa’s opinion), had wanted him?

“Yes, the Kojo Kondo, he has made this project and requested that ‘The Great King of the Symphony’ be his violin player.” Despite the sarcastic tone in the manager's voice, Oikawa couldn't help but bounce around, thrill flooding his veins. “Sign me up.” He said rapidly, so hastily that the words nearly got caught on his tongue.

“Alright, don't you want to know what the project is-”

“-I said sign me up.”

“Well, okay, I’ll message you the address, the first meeting is tomorrow.” Just by her words you could hear that she was rolling her eyes, but Oikawa didn't care. He took the receiver away from his lips and ended the call.

“I’m going to meet… The, The Kojo Kondo.” His voice dropped, and reuttered around his vacant apartment. Anticipation formed around his skin and made his usually soft hands clammy, and trepidation began rimming all his movements. “This is the best day of my life!”

#

A smile loosely fastened on his pinkish lips, Oikawa stood outside of the given recording studio, his heavy case stuffed with music and memories from of the years sat like a saddle on his back as he prepared to ride on what was going to be a journey of a lifetime. He breathed through his nose, the scent of talent scraping his senses. “Here I am, where I belong.” No hesitation tinted his face, only excitement ravishing his beautiful features as his fingers curled around the door knob and rapidly opened the door.

The room was quite small, posters of different orchestras and other more popular bands sprawled the walls, there were recording devices, and mics hanging from their usual places, an amp and other electronics that Oikawa wasn't particularly familiar to were also thrown on the floor, as well as another man.

His hair was dark, spiked, he was toned, his face was a tad darker than Oikawa’s own but was perfectly defined, he resembled one of the people artists made statues out of that had become ancient art over the passing years, but he certainly wasn't old, from the perfection upon his face Oikawa guessed he was around the same age of himself. His eyes were dark and branded with something Oikawa’s insides yearned to learn about; he was dressed with tight fitting jeans and an untucked shirt, a tie perfectly wrapped around his collar so his distinct collar bones could take a breath in the humid room. His blazer was hung up in the corner of the room, probably because of how hot it was, the electronics did cause a lot of heat, Oikawa wasn't saying he was hot, certainly not.

His jawline could cut a man, and his hands looked stern yet gentle, his lips were just slightly parted so his white teeth shimmered through the darkening mouth, eyes were captivating, and glazed with something that made Oikawa’s spine crawl every time he stared. He couldn’t help but scan around his frame and features a few more times. He must be him. Kojo.

“Excuse me, I’m guessing you're Kojo, or shall I call you Mr Kondo? I’m Oikawa, but, you can call me anything you like, Tooru, babe, sweetie, I’m up for anything with open arms!” His voice swirled against the rim of his lips as he leaned a little closer, his hand moving to be thrown out in front of him in a hand shake gesture.

The other looked hesitant, his eyebrows lowered as he looked up at Oikawa, his overcast eyes glaring daggers back at the violinist, whose smile remained stitched to what seemed to be twitching lips. “Who the fuck are you,” His eyes grew narrower, and his lip curled.

“And I ain't Kojo, he isn't supposed to be coming-”

“-What.” Oikawa whispered, falling onto his knees and clutching his fists melodramatically.

“Who the heck are you then?” The violinist was now alarmed, this random rather attractive man was sat in this abandoned recording studio, at second glance he didn't even look musical, he looks like some Calvin Klein model got lost and ended up here for some unexplainable shoot.

“Shut the fuck up,” He muttered in an obnoxious reply, smashing his own hand on the side of his face. “The whole point was to put two musicians who mastered different genres in the same recording studio to see what they could create, did you not even listen to the brief?!” His voice was gravelly and quite tantalising against the curls of the violinist’s ears; goosebumps prickled against Oikawa’s skin.

“Well I heard Kojo- different genres?” He digressed, slinging his violin off his shoulder. “What… What do you mean? Are you a jazz player? A singer? I can work with both.”

“I’m Iwaizumi,” He replied coldly, finally ripping his hand off his face. “Lead guitarist of the Black Moon.”

Jaw hanging open, Oikawa stopped, his arms dropped from his joints and he fell back, his violin lying next to him like a coffin for his dead dreams. “How...how can this be happening? Please say you're an Indie band!” He shot up, hands clasped together in an almost pleading fashion. “Folk? Pop? Please tell me you're not-”

“Rock, we’re a heavy metal band.”

“Well. That's… That's great.” Oikawa’s smile grew, his brown eyes losing his distinct colour as his head dropped upon his shoulder, his eye twitching with disappointment and frustration. “Rock...rock band.” He whispered, in denial, hoping under some way this was a cruel joke, and Kojo was going to come out of the corner, and open a massive door that lead to the biggest most beautiful orchestra there had ever been, and the attractive man was a second violin, and his countermelodies against Oikawa’s own faultless solos would be the most beautiful thing to ever bless anyone’s ears.

“You seem surprised, you must be some sort of dumbass to have not listened to the brief, who are you, Oikawa-?”

“-Tooru Oikawa, the best violinist in the region, and I’m extremely angry right now!” Like a child, he clenched his fists and folded his arms, his lip curling into a light pout as he turned his head, his bouncy brown locks following his face and framing it perfectly to the angle.

“If we’re introducing ourselves formally, I’m Hajime Iwaizumi, lead guitarist of Black Moon, and known to be one of the best guitarists in Japan.” Feeling like he was one upping the other man, Iwaizumi held himself a little higher, his eyes narrowed as they searched the pouting face averting from him.

He dropped out of his tantrum, and fell back, and began folding up into a moping position, his head leaning against his own neck. “This is a nightmare…”

"Play a requiem on your violin for all your dead dreams.” Iwaizumi muttered bitterly, his elbow resting on his thigh and his jaw planting on his palm. “And you think this is a nightmare? I’m stuck in here with a self absorbed snob who plays the pansy violin-”

Oikawa shot up, his finger pinging against Iwaizumi nose, his soft angelic facade cracking instantaneously at the insult. “The violin is not pansy you take that back, or I'll shove your guitar where the sun doesn't shine.” Iwaizumi leaned closer, and hit Oikawa’s hand away, his eyebrows furrowed. “You're acting like I’m some newbie to music, your orchestral instruments are old fashioned-”

“They’ll never die.” Oikawa’s words were like cracking glass that began stabbing into Iwaizumi’s skin, his head flung back, and so did Oikawa’s, his face now crimson and burning, the feeling of the guitarist’s hot skin still fizzing on his own.

_Ring ring._

Iwaizumi didn't even turn to Oikawa, whose head was turned and trying to distract itself with different posters pasted upon the coloured walls.

“Hello?” The receiver was at his ear, and he winced a little. “Record something by tomorrow?” He shouted back, then grimaced at the response. “I know we’re both professional musicians but- fine, fine.” His fingers clipped the bridge of his nose before ending the call and slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“So, ‘Iwa-chan’, who was that? Your mom?” Oikawa’s voice was teasing, all he wanted to do was pester that Iwaizumi until he left, and he could only do it in the only way he knew how, by being annoying.

“No, _dumbass_ , it was Kojo, and we have to record something by tomorrow or we’re not going to do the concert for him-”

“Concert? For him?” Oikawa’s stomach gurgled in delight, and he leant forward with clasped hands, his fingers intertwined with his own.

“Yeah, you would have known this, **IF YOU LISTENED TO THE GODDAMN BRIEF**.” His voice raised in volume, then shot to the left.

“Well… _‘Iwa-chan',"_ Every mention of the cruel nickname he emphasised, and brought it out with the length of his tongue. It made Iwaizumi cringe as he shot back. “ _Don't call me that!_ ”

A smirk spread on Oikawa’s lips, and tugged lightly on the corners, “I guess we are going to have to work together, for the concert, course-”

“Well that was the fucking plan-”

“-and I think a musician like myself could easily make riffraff like you sound at least decent, don't you?”

“I think if I shove something in your mouth to block you from speaking I can make you sound good too-”

Oikawa grunted to interrupt. “So mean, _Iwa-chan~!_ ” He couldn't help it now, he just wanted every little bit to bite into Iwaizumi’s sides so he could trap him and assure his own dominance; the guitarist looked frustrated, but didn't say a thing.

“Now, what can you even play on that thing of yours, _anyway_?” He taunted, finally managing to stand up and tower over the sitting Iwaizumi, his hand resting neatly on his hip as his optics glared down and burned the heat of a malicious stare into the other male’s skin.

“ _Anything_. I can even play your bitch-Bach, munging-Mozart, and bastard-Beethoven-”

“Don't you dare say the names in vain.” Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, and he formed a pout again, his eyes glazing over like someone had insulted his mother. “And they're only the famous ones! Of course someone like you wouldn't know anymore-”

“Chopin, Haydn, Mahler, Brahms. Stravinsky, all your type of composers.” His voice was a little gruff, his salvia must have been like lemon juice to make his words so sour.

At first, Oikawa looked surprised, he then narrowed his eyes, and leant a little closer. “Looks like Mr Rock-M _an h_ as been doing his research.” Childishly, he stuck out his tongue, and brought his finger up to pull down the bottom lid of one of his eyes.

“ _Or_ , I’m not an idiot - look I can list all those classical composers, and I bet you can't even list three metal bands.”

Oikawa retreated his hand, and his nose shrivelled in distaste, his arms folded and he looked down at the riffraff below him. “Sure I can.” He paused, his thoughts strained as he rooted for some sign of a rock band in his mind. Alas, there were none. “Fine, fine, you win, whatever! It's because every time I listen to music like that it hurts my ears!”

“Your volume was probably _too_ loud-”

“Rock’s volume is _too_ loud! There's no dynamic contrast it's all screaming!” The violinist bit back, his hand reached down for his violin case.

“For someone who’s supposed to be one of the best musicians in the region, your knowledge is pretty dire.” Iwaizumi bit back, aggression smothering his tone and he reached for his guitar case.

Oikawa looked a little shocked, then took himself to the floor, placing his case nearer, and unzipping it so his beautiful meticulous violin could gaze at the small room.

“Look, instead of arguing about which genre is better-”

“-because there's no argument-”

“-we should actually rehearse a fucking piece.” Iwaizumi finally finished as Oikawa gave a slight huff and picked up his bow, his eyes scanning along the horse hair to make sure it wasn't too frail. “Fine, fine, what do you suggest?” Oikawa replied, his other hand picking up his violin and resting the rest upon his shoulder, adjusting his chin to slot over it perfectly.

“Well seeing as if I give you some sheet music you’d probably kill me, what do you want?” Iwaizumi got his guitar, the amp was already plugged in, and it was now resting on his thigh, the strap around his shoulder as his ear leant down to the strings as he quietly plucked them, the volume was low just so the quiet sound could whisper into his ear so he knew if it was tuned.

“ _Hmm_.” Oikawa hummed innocently, as he reached to his case to grab some rosin and carefully wipe it along his bow, before placing it back and playing his A string. “You know that really cliche piece of music that sounds really sad and angry on piano.”

“Moonlight Sonata? By Beethoven? Isn't that a little simple?”

Oikawa scrunched his nose again, a little surprised that he didn't have to tell him which piece he meant. “Aren’t _YOU_ a little simple?”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows pressed against his eyes, and he turned to look at Oikawa properly, his fingers adjusting with the volume dial on his guitar. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Well… Do you know it, or not?” He asked, his finger plucking a pizzicato A major scale along his A string.

“I'll play the bassline, you can play the melody. I've never played it before but I can figure it by ear.” Iwaizumi said, his fingers curling around the strings as he plucked his own lower E string.

Oikawa’s head raised, and nose stuck up, before adjusting to his feet. “Alright.” His bow trailed along all four of his strings, before looking down at Iwaizumi again. “I'll count in four, then we’ll play-”

“Just saying, I’m not playing that boring bassline for the whole song, I'll be adjusting it.”

“Adjusting a classic? You have to be kidding me-”

“-you should do the same, play an improvised melody over the top, we’re in E major, I’m sure you can figure something if you're as good as you claim.” Iwaizumi’s voice remained low, and it made Oikawa shiver, something struck him when someone else spoke about music as passionately as himself, like they could speak their own magical language. Oikawa gave a nervous nod; that was the first time he didn't look so secure, like he was under Iwaizumi in a way, but consenting. It made Iwaizumi chuckle, but Oikawa’s head quickly broke his way, and formed a passive scowl. “Fine, whatever, let's go!”

#

Oikawa played it an octave higher than the orginal, starting on an A in the stave, the triplets making his fingers move angelically against his strings; they moved so naturally, like it was what fingers were designed for, like God had made Oikawa’s fingers to glide along the strings and mother nature assured his fingers could dance and adapt to any speed upon his violin. His long eyelashes were dark, and his eyes became half lidded, the curls of his long lashes reflecting the harsh light of the room as his bow wavered across the strings. It was an art. His top teeth clamped on his bottom lip, and his face remained looking pale, naturally God-like as his arms continued to move without fault.

Iwaizumi only had semibreves to start, the bassline simple, yet he managed to make it sound so good, every triplet conjured by Oikawa’s violin bounced perfectly off every note Iwaizumi plucked, the volume perfectly breaching heavenly levels.

 _Adagio sostenuto_.

It was slow at first, and after a while the main melody kicked in, and Iwaizumi’s fingers slipped to play the triplets between his index, and thumb along his frets. It was odd, the passing of melodies between the two. They were in sync, more than seen before, despite previous confrontation they swtitched like musicians who had been working together since childhood. Slowly, as he continued to let the ostinatos engrave his movmemts, Iwaizumi looked up at Oikawa; he looked so natural, his movements conveying a poem of all the things right in the world, it made his heart yearn, and Oikawa could say the same. Despite the flow, Oikawa opened an eye fully, and looked down at Iwaizumi, so they both locked eyes for a moment, the music dancing from their fingers to their irises. Oikawa’s heart became the metronome to the piece, Iwaizumi’s movements perfect on his own, it wasn't just the fact that Oikawa could make anyone sound good, Hajime was a natural, just like himself. His eyes fluttered shut, and Iwaizumi managed to break eye contact, his heart kicking in off-beat rhythms as they played - that's when he began. His finger’s movements grew a little faster and began changing up slightly, adding in different patterns and variations but just so the original theme could still be deciphered, it sounded a little more rock-themed, but still sounded pure, beautiful, something people would pay to hear, even in this cramped room. Oikawa began to adjust to the quicker pace, his fingers balancing out the classical-rock-duet that had started forming, his bow elongating and began making some rhythms a little snappier, a smile growing evident on his face as his heart-metronome grew in pace. Iwaizumi couldn't help but smile too, it tugged lightly on his lips as his fingers worked to the bone, moving down to the higher range of his guitar.

Then they stopped. Both at the same time, a third apart. How they knew when to stop, who knew.

Oikawa gave a quiet pant, then dropped his arm limp, his fingers still grasping at the bow.

Iwaizumi’s head fell back, and he tried to fight the smile against his lips.

“I…” Oikawa started, dropping the bow into his case, as he gave a slow turn to see Iwaizumi’s face. Tooru’s face had tinted red, a grin perched on his embouchure, making his features a lot more delightful before words trickled from his tongue. “You're not half bad, _Iwa-chan_ …”


	2. Whatever Nevermind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Iwaizumu's first rehearsal went better than either of them had planned. After some off texts they meet again and begin to grow even closer by just the means of conversation; the two decide to rehearse outside, and their music even ends up drawing a crowd to Iwaizumi's reluctance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLYSHIT, FAM.  
> I wasn't expecting over 500 hits for just one chapter? Tysm? And thank you for all the kind comments two like, SHIT BOI I DIE.  
> You're all so nice though thank you so much? I hope this chapter goes to your expectations because you guys really enjoyed it anD BWAA it makes me so happy ? ;u;  
> ~IMPORTANT PLEASE READ~  
> So in this chapter the two play an arrangement of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' which is the most overplayed Nivarna song ever but everyone has heard of it and yeah!  
> But I wrote it about this AMAZING arrangement which really fucking inspired me? So I would recommend listening to it while reading the last part of this chapter  
> \---> https://youtu.be/tra0-EJ_4Mk

_‘Iwa-chan’_ , that sickly sweet voice that tingled against Iwaizumi’s ear, that bit against his skin and tightened his throat. How could someone so quickly come up with a nickname so saccharine that all the bitter bite of cold that scrawled upon Iwaizumi’s personality began to soften, and melt? And why was he still thinking of it now?

The two had long since separated -- Iwaizumi was alone in his apartment, his dark yet bland apartment; band posters were placed upon the grey walls, and the harsh lights pimpled against the ceiling, making the guitarist’s eyes narrow, little by little. “Ugh.” He huffed, falling upon his dark leather couch, his guitar encased by his side, his spiked hair wavered out upon the back pillows, and his eyes closed in thought. Goosebumps lightly arose the hairs against his toned arms, and he tried his hardest to suppress a grin, his teeth over biting his bottom lip until he finally gave in a smile. “We sounded good.” He admitted, crossing one leg over his robust thigh, a sigh forcing a gust to part his lips.

A vibration tore his pocket, and Iwaizumi with reluctance scrambled in his pocket and brought out his phone, a new message from Oikawa -- they had swapped numbers just before parting, and arguing a little more over the best type of strings for an instrument.

 **Oikawa** : _sent a message_

_iwa-chan!~~~ tysm for today you're not as bad as i thought you would be? but only slightly, very, teensy tiny bit( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ_

Iwaizumi grunted, even the way Oikawa he typed made him want to shoot himself, let alone his voice that hit him like chalk against a black board.

_Thanks. What a compliment. Next rehearsal if you act like that I’ll shove your violin as far in your ass as your ego._

Swiftly, he placed the phone on his thigh, his head dropping back so the pillow fell upon his head again, it was nice feeling the material against his scalp.

_kinky~ jk. also ive been looking at your band! i think they nee d more musical breaks, maybe a violin solo???(°∀°)b_

Iwaizumi blinked at the message -- he hated Oikawa so much.

_Die._

_so mean iwa-chan!! get some rest for tomorrows rehearsal anyway gn!!(´∀`)_

Iwaizumi lifted his fingers to reply, but they were dragged down with drowsiness, the amount of emoticons per text had began to burn his retina and he didn't want to go completely blind just yet. The slight fizzle against the glaze of his iris did begin to bother him, and his lids began to droop with sheer tiredness of the overwhelming day, before he knew it, his head was against his arm rest, and his eyes were shut, asleep like a baby.

 #

‘ _It's cold_.’ Oikawa thought to himself, his body hunched over his laptop, his headphones crimping his luscious brunette locks as his duvet was worn like a cape over his muscled back. His dark eyes scolded over to his phone, a pout curling his bottom lip as it didn't light up or vibrate against his mattress. He didn't get much company so those few texts from Iwaizumi were good for him, just to see someone knew his existence when he was hidden away, under his duvet at--

‘3:00am? No wonder he didn't reply, hopefully…’ Oikawa’s thoughts pressed against his mind as he brought the duvet around his chest a little tighter, his heart now heaving against his ribcage. His finger wiping down on the pad-mouse.

He was on YouTube, searching for the Black Moon albums, and concert videos, and backstage interviews, and everything there could ever be about their band. His eyes were stapled open, and his top set of teeth clamped on his bottom lip as he clicked on the hyperlink to one of their songs; it must have been their softest songs. The piece was called ‘Eternal thoughts’, and over and over again, the music video panned to Iwaizumi, his fingers lightly dancing along the frets, and his nails glazing over the strings like it was natural, his eyes were soft, and brows relaxed as the music seemed to paint an angelic look upon his features. His hair was styled differently, it wasn't spiked, and was just left untamed, the dark wefts falling perfectly from his face -- not as nice as Oikawa’s own, but up there. A continuous riff continued to play, and a shudder played a melody through the violinist’s spine. Lightly, one of the brunette’s slender fingers began to tap the pulse of the piece, it was in a simple 4/4, but it didn't put him off, his eyes didn't wander from the screen, and the dark filtered band reflected from his drawn eyes, and a slight natural smile pulled at the corners of his lips. The lyrics were fair, simple, reflective, but they caught Oikawa’s ears like a nightmare to a dreamcatcher.

_I don't care who you are, but the deeper I’m getting, the more I’m knowing, the more I’m beginning to fall for you._

As he continued to play it on repeat, Oikawa began to hum along, often inserting extra harmonies that just lay unplayed on his tongue. He wouldn't admit that he loved it, he wouldn't admit he's been analysing Iwaizumi’s every movement in the video, he wouldn't admit the goosebumps prickling his skin even if this was the 5th time watching and listening.

Without thinking, Oikawa reached for his phone and brought up Iwaizumi’s contact number, his finger hovering over the message button before quickly writing a message.

_i don't want to admit you're talented… but your song eternal whatever is really lovely, can we do an arrangement tomorrow??~~ (*^▽^*)_

Oikawa was about to press enter, until the realisation dawned on him, that it sounded stupid, he couldn't admit to his newly formed partner that he had been sat here listening to his album till--

‘5 am? Oh no-’ He winced, he tried to move but his knee began to seethe in pain, like a flame writhing under his skin without the extinguish of painkillers to dampen the fire. No one was there to remind him of him of these things, luckily he was going to sleep anyway, and hopefully rest the pain away.

A sigh broke a gap in his lips and he placed the laptop on the floor beside his bed, grimacing in pain before laying down, the duvet covering his heaving chest, and his eyes beginning to soften as they stared at the ceiling. “I don't care who you are…” Oikawa began to hum, the light voice erupting from his throat as he sat up a little. ‘I wonder if Iwa-chan wrote those lyrics?’ He couldn't help using the lame nickname naturally by this point, but curiosity began to paint his mind dark colours; he bit his lip. He wasn't sure why these lyrics spoke to him so much, why the song was embedded in his thoughts and actually distracted him from the pain of his knee. Finally, Oikawa’s eyes began to droop, a long breath forcing its way through his windpipe and through his lips. He was asleep.

#

_iwa-chan are you there yet? i might be a little late im having to pick up some medication (╥_╥)_

Iwaizumi’s acoustic guitar case was worn on his back like a rucksack, his fingers curving around his phone as his eyes narrowed at the message. Quickly, he brought himself to the side of the pavement, and leant himself upon the wall, his eyed glazing over the message one more time before pressing his thumbs down on the keyboard, the frosty chill of the morning slowling his typing.

_No, I’m on my way now, are you at the pharmacy?_

_mhm~_

_I'll meet you there, hold up._

Without waiting for a further response from Oikawa, Iwaizumi slipped his phone back into the tight jeans wrapped around his toned legs, and changed direction toward the local pharmacy, the leather jacket he was wearing saving him from the icy winds.

#

He made it quickly, Oikawa was stood outside, his leg resting on the wall of the shop, and a smirk equipped on his lips that spoke more words than a speech. “Took your time, ‘ _Iwa-chan_ ’!” Oikawa’s words were sugary, and trickled off his tongue like honey. In response, Iwaizumi cringed, and shot his head away. “It was two minutes.” His voice was a little rough for talking to someone he had only known a day. “What were you picking up, anyway?” The guitarist rolled his shoulders a little, adjusting the case that lay compressed against his back muscles. “Pain killers,” Oikawa’s fingers formed a gun and he raised his hands and pretended to shoot Iwaizumi’s head. “Pew.” The whisper left his lips, then he gave a grin. “See? Killing the pains! You’re the pain, get it, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi’s hand spread and he hit Oikawa on the back of his head, his hair poofing out a little as he winced. “ _So mean…_ ” He whispered in response, as Iwaizumi folded his arms. “What's the real reason? You ill?” A chuckle scraped the back of his throat, and Oikawa peered off to the side. “I have a bad knee, I forgot to take any medication last night and when I went to take some this morning there were none left, so I needed to stock up, I’m supposed to take them every twelve hours, but I usually forget, and my knee will just seize up, it’s actually really painful.” The light laugh that coated his words began to slowly die, and he brought back his sights. Iwaizumi’s eyes were wide, he watched Oikawa a little shocked. “Well, you're gonna be with me till this concert so I’ll remind you, I don't want you falling on me or something.”

“My hero.” Oikawa joked, despite his jokey facade, something about what Iwaizumi said warmed him a little, and brought a small smile to tug against his lips. “Don't think anything of it. Really.” Iwaizumi’s head turned, and he looked over to the direction of the recording studio. “C’mon, we need to get started.” He jeered, beginning to walk without Oikawa beside him, who quickly caught up with a few large steps. “I've got an idea what we can play today, because you chose yesterday.” The guitarist added, his voice informative as he looked over to Oikawa, who was currently dazing off at the greyish sky that tinted the atmosphere. “Hm~?” he hummed in reply, his head tilting to look back at his ‘Iwa-chan’. “I’m picking the music today.” He reiterated, turning back to street ahead. “Oh, okay!” Oikawa hopped until he was alongside him and gave him a playful nudge. “Some awful rock song, I suppose…” The setter drifted off, his words spiraling into a manipulative sugary mess, which resulted in a push from Iwaizumi.

#

The recording studio was humid -- the lights turned on and resurrected the dead room with a lot of reluctance, the mics and amps were already set up, and Iwaizumi perched himself upon the chair he was sat in yesterday, while Oikawa lounged on the floor, opening his violin case which he had managed to get off his back.

“You've brought a different guitar.” Oikawa pointed out, his head looking up as he rested his violin in the crook of his neck. “Yeah. This one’s acoustic, it’s easier to carry.”

“It looks nicer.” He pointed out, dragging the bow along the strings lazily which resulted in a quiet chord. “This one’s just for today, I had a late night and was in a rush getting here so this one was easier to carry.” Quickly, he placed the strap across his shoulders, and rested the base on his thigh, his finger playing across the strings while other fingers on his other lay lazily across some frets, producing a muffled C chord.

“Oh--” Oikawa slight curious hum was interrupted by a vibration upon his leg, and a sigh cracking through his lips again. Iwaizumi just watched as he brought out his phone.

 **Ushi-HE’S SO DESPERATE** : _left a message_

_We’re doing another rehearsal tomorrow, if you would like to join I don't mind treating you to a meal afterwards:)x_

“Oh my God, Iwaizumi play a rock song, hopefully I’ll die.” Oikawa whispered intently, but also very melodramatically, his hands placing his violin and bow to the floor as he began to crumple himself up. “He's using smiley faces and kisses now? How desperate is he?!” His words began to spiral into a little hectic tornado as he brought his legs to his chest.

“Who?” Iwaizumi said, a little bit out of the loop, as his hand rested on the curve of his sticker-littered guitar. “Oh my God, I haven't told you have I?”

“What.” It didn't even sound like a question, the disinterest was clearly painted upon Iwaizumi’s face, his eyes were watching blankly and his limbs were dangling from his sockets.

“So, a year ago I was in a bit of a financial state, and I was offered to play with a cellist in a concert, this duet thing, I’m not even sure, but I did it for the money, but this guy kept going on about the potential I had after the performance, he came into my dressing room and started lecturing me!” Oikawa huffed, bringing himself upon his knees as he puffed his chest out and lowered his voice about an octave to impersonate Ushijima. “ ‘ _You should come to the orchestra I attend, Shiratorizawa, your potential can easily be reached at such standards.’_ Yah-de-yah-de-yah! He was a total tool! Especially when I refused and told him he looked like a dinosaur. Apparently, he found that attractive or something and he tried to kiss me, I ducked and tried to tell him, in the nicest was possible that he wasn't my type, but ever since then I’ve got messages crammed down my throat everyday asking, this time he asked me out for dinner, ugh.”

“Sounds like you have a creepy admirer.” Iwaizumi said, his head tilting from one shoulder to the other, his eyes watching Oikawa’s slight performance.

“Creepy? Doesn't cover it? He's like some Anime Antagonist? Or some creepy alien ready to probe me?” Oikawa looked over at Iwaizumi who was staring at him like a blank sheet.

“Did you tell him you weren't interested in guys?”

“What,” Oikawa gave a quiet laugh and dropped to sit cross legged, his brown eyes catching the light of the room just so they began to lightly shimmer. “It's not that I’m not interested in guys, it's more he's not my type.”

“So you're gay?”

“No, I’m pan’, I like a bit of everything.” Oikawa said a little over protectively. “I’m guessing you're as straight as a straight edge.” The brunette added, his hand reaching to grab his bow again.

“What, no, I don't want to talk about this, can we just fucking play?”

“I’m your music partner, you can tell me anything~!” His vowels were extended in his words, and dragged along his tongue as he gave a bitter smile.

“God, why would I tell you anything, I’ve known you a day and I hate you.”

“ _Rude_.” Oikawa said, falling back a little as he continued to watch the flustered guitarist. Quickly, the violinist dug into his pockets and picked up his frames, before pushing them up his nose to conceal his bright chocolate eyes. “I’m just saying, we work well together, even though I know I work well with everyone, I know we work _exceptionally_ well together, don't you?”

Iwaizumi huffed, but the small confrontation was interrupted by another longer vibration from Oikawa’s phone. Hesitantly, he picked it up and answered the call, placing his cell to his ear. “Hello, this is your manager speaking, how is the project going?” Her voice was like thick licorice, stern and more like a strict child minder than a manger, but that's exactly the type of person Oikawa needed to watch him. “Fine, we’ll be ready for the concert, why did you call, you never like to check up on me?” Oikawa’s voice drifted, he sounded a little flirtatious, and it caught Iwaizumi’s breath in knots -- he looked away.

“Well, I have another parent, she wants you to teach her child and will pay £100 per session--”

“--Not interested.” Oikawa bit back, the seductive attitude from before had dissolved, and was left with just a obnoxious bite as he took the receiver away from his ear and hung up.

“Look at you, Mr Popular.” Iwaizumi muttered, plucking a quiet tune as his head turned to scan Oikawa’s distinguished features. His eyes were glazed over with some rumination, and his eyebrows furrowed in an angry angle, he didn’t look as virtuous as usual, as his thumb remained pressed down at where the end call button was before fading at the touch.

 Oikawa replied with a huff.

“What, do you want attention from me or something?” Iwaizumi didn't stop looking at him, as much as Oikawa seemed like an attention whore, something was different, he even looked to grow a few shades paler, as his hand slowly dropped his phone to the floor, and moved to grip the bridge of his own nose. “What, I bet you get attention all the time, being in a famous rock band and all.”

Iwaizumi was surprised at the reply, and swiveled a little more to get a better view. “Yeah, I don't really like getting attention that much though, only from people I find special, I guess? I don't want random people handing me love letters and stuff like that if you get me, like in high school I was a member of every sports club going and girls watched me and sent me love letters and admired me, but I don't like rolling that way, but you wouldn't understand that, you bask in attention.”

The violinist scrunched his nose, his bottom lip curling as he dropped his elbow onto his thigh and rested his chin in his palm. “Iwa-chan that's so judgemental… And I can say similar things, though. Back in high school girls always came to me after matches and gave me love letters and such, it was nice, I can’t seem to find anyone like that anymore though.” A sigh broke his lacklustre words and his head fell to the side, his bangs covering part of his frames as he gave a weak smile. “Life’s hard when you're beautiful.”

“Die.” Iwaizumi garbled, his fingers combing through the spiky tufts of hair upon his head. “I’m surprised you're single, in all honesty, not to feed your ego-”

“Why, interested, ‘ _Iwa-chan_ ’~?” A seductive purr cooed off his lips, as he brought them forward into a cute ‘ah’ sound. Iwaizumi huffed. “You wish.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, until a small ping of Iwaizumi’s guitar broke it.

“So, what did you decline from your manager?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

Oikawa seemed glad to continue the conversation, and sat himself up a little more, his hair falling away from his glasses to frame his face perfectly from what Iwa-chan could see. “Some kid who wanted tuition...”

“Do y’ not like kids?” He added, an eyebrow newly quirked as he looked down at Oikawa, who’s legs were now uncrossed and stretching out on the floor, the loose jogging pant material hanging of his toned legs beautifully. Iwaizumi hated the fact he looked so much like a model.

“No, actually, I like kids, most kids, I used to teach them, and I liked watching them look up at me in awe and call me their senpai.”

“That's disgusting.”

Oikawa shot him a tongue pull, and Iwaizumi returned with an eye roll.

“But there was one kid, who ruined me forever, put me off teaching for good, no matter the price.” He whispered, his hand moving the glasses that slipped away from his eyes.

“Why? Were they that badly behaved?” He enquired, eyebrows arched again as he leaned forward in anticipation.

“No. Too good.”

“What. What, what is that supposed to mean?” Iwaizumi adjusted himself in the seat, and pushed his back to the back of the seat, his vertebrate crawling with apprehension as a hint of curiosity splattered his stare.

“You heard of the violinist, Tobio Kageyama?” Even saying the name made it look like he swallowed battery acid, and his head fell back slightly, a sigh waiting to break through his lips.

“Who hasn't? He's world renowned.”

“Him.” The sigh then seeped through, his hands flinging back so he could lean into them little by little.

“Oh.” Iwaizumi said calmly, before crossing one leg over the other. “Why was he such trouble?”

“He was so fucking good? A natural? Someone who didn't even have to work for it? And it made me so angry, Hajime, so fucking angry!” Something was different about the tone of Oikawa’s voice, he wasn't using the crude nickname for a start, and he wasn't making his words sound sweet either, they were spewing from his lips like a ripened lemon’s juice. “Imagine teaching some kid, and you just fucking hate them, there's nothing wrong with them, but they just steal all your hints and tricks and then develop their own and grow to be even better, it hurts...it really hurts.”

Iwaizumi wasn't expecting anything serious in response, and hearing Oikawa like this made him uncomfortable, either that it was because he was scary, or could be, or it was plain wrong. “Get over it.” He replied sharply, to which Oikawa looked up with narrow eyes. “What do you mean ‘get over it’-”

“I prefer the way you play anyway, I feel like if I was going to have to play with either of you, it would be you. And that's saying something because I hate you.”

Something softened on Oikawa’s exterior, and he gave a small smile, “Aw, Iwa-chan, that's the nicest thing you have ever said to me…”

“That's the furthest it goes, sorry, pal.” Iwaizumi said, taking off his guitar strap and resting it upon the base of his guitar. Oikawa watched him, consistently. Iwaizumi watched too, glaring over Oikawa's begrudgingly pretty features. His eyes wavered over his jawbone, that was perfectly contoured in the slight shadows of the room, and his bouncy hair that was flickering away from his face like something an artist could only imagine. Iwaizumi suddenly felt a little hot, and broke his stare.

Oikawa had calmed down, but his violin was resealed in it’s case, and Oikawa’s slender index finger lazily brought up his frames to glint in the artificial light of the room. “Say,” He began, one hand moving back to the floor to stand himself up as he picked up his case and placed it on his back. “What if we practice outside?”

“People will stare, idiot.” Iwaizumi hastily replied, eyeing the violinist up with curiosity. “How about if you do, I’ll treat you to coffee after?” One of his big brown eyes closed into a persuasive wink, and his tongue pushed to rest on his bottom lip. “I like to have my own way, Iwa-chan~!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, Iwaizumi grabbed the guitar’s neck, his brawny fingers strangling it as he returned it to the case and closed it carefully, before picking it up, and placing it upon his own back. “Right, let's go,”

#

It was cold. The blistering sun pierced through the grey clouds that scattered the sky and began to part, the pink blossom painted a resplendent picture upon the scenery before the two walking musicians. There were people, they seemed entirely focussed their own lives and had an antisocial aura about them -- Oikawa lead Iwaizumi to a bench, a ‘got his own way’ smile pulling pleasantly upon his lip. “Now…” He whispered, placing his finger in the corner of his lip in thought. “What do you want to play?” People were in a bustle, and walked past minding their own business, but Iwaizumi still looked uneasy.

“Aren't people going to get mad if some random musicians start playing in a park?” He asked, taking his guitar case off his back and placing it on the bench, before opening it up and grabbing his guitar and placing the strap around his shoulders, his fingers warming up by the memories that were glued to his strings as he plucked them lightly.

“Only if you didn't pick a good piece!” Oikawa stuck out his tongue and placed his own instrument case on the bench, grabbing his violin and resting it in the crook of his neck, his head turning toward his Iwa-chan to wait for a command. “You really don't trust me, do you?”

“I don't trust many people…” Oikawa replied, his fingers tapping the grip of his bow before reaching it up to place on his strings. "But I always make people sound their best."

“Right. Here.” Iwaizumi turned around and reached in his case, grabbing the neatly folded music before handing it to Oikawa. The violinist retrieved it, and unfolded it with one hand by leaning it slightly on his chest; he placed it on the bench and looked over it. “Did you arrange this yourself?” He asked, looking over to the corner where a neat signature was scrawled ‘For Tooru Oikawa’, it wasn't in insult, and for some reason it plucked against his heart strings, and a sweet smile coloured his pinkish lips. “You never heard of Nivarna before? Its their most famous song from their most recognisable album, it's an arrangement I put together last night, that's why I fell asleep on your text."

'He remembered that?' He felt a little warm, but didn't let it show. Oikawa then gave a light shrug, and then looked over to him. “It could sound awful-”

“You don't know until you try, Trash-kawa.” His eyes squinted, and he gripped the fretboard of his guitar with a little more brutality.

“Calm calm, I will, just for you, Iwa-chan~!” He gave a teasing grin, his words running like caramel through his tongue. Iwaizumi really wanted to fucking punch him.

“Just- just fucking play the piece.” He held himself back, his fingers already in the position to play the first chord - they were gripped with anticipation, and Oikawa replied with a huff.

“Let's go then.”

#

Oikawa’s eyes trailed along the music, his frames scraping down his nose and reiterating his sight before raising himself.

 _Aggressivo_.

One command he hadn't seen in awhile, not particularly in his collections. But, as musician he must follow the rules; his head flung up, and his bow attacked his strings, his fingers moving with velocity as they heaved the notes, it sounded heart wrenching. Goosebumps prickled against Iwaizumi’s arms, his hair standing on end as his feet tapped out a pulse, he couldn't help but bite his lip to suppress a grin, and the happiness of knowing Oikawa was playing something written by him, as if he was under him in a way. His head turned, he wasn't playing until another few bars, so it gave him the chance to see Oikawa’s face while he played. It looked so delicate, white rose, all the cockiness, and the sneer that usually enticed his lips was replaced with something pure. Iwaizumi’s heart played along with his tapping foot, and he kicked in the chords.

Hand jerking along the strings, it backed up the violin seamlessly, giving the orchestral instrument an extra kick of aggression. Iwaizumi’s fingers moved to pluck, they were always in time, always perfect, sharp, staccato.

Oikawa had moved on to the verse too, his bow sliding largo along his strings producing a broad yet faultless sound, it was honestly so pleasing, the two were joined by this music and it was insane, every short note backed up by Hajime enhanced Oikawa’s notes as they played into the bridge.

Oikawa moved in octaves at a point, his bow majestically dancing under his control - the two moulded together with a musical glue.

At the call and response, Oikawa turned himself to see Iwaizumi, an awkwardness plucked at his fingers as he was already full on glaring Oikawa down, but it didn't matter, Oikawa slid his fingers into a glissando, the notes melting together like their ever growing friendship. Iwaizumi played, breaking the violinist’s pause, and Tooru replied; they locked eyes, it was only a moment but the reflection of Iwaizumi against Oikawa’s ecru irises made his heart hammer against his chest, nearly taking him out of time. But Oikawa returned the smile, a natural smile, it wasn't a provoking smirk, or grin that made Iwaizumi think he was bring wrapped around Oikawa’s fingers, it was something for more earnest, and dare he say attractive.

The bustling people heard the melodies dance against their own ears, and soon formed a crowd, the two playing at each other and forming their sounds together to form something the crowd obviously enjoyed, and even formed a stack of money for.

Iwaizumi didn't like the fact Oikawa turned away from him, and began playing toward the crowd, he didn't like the fact his hair shimmered in the late afternoon sun, and how his smile altered to something more crowd pleasing, but their music sounded too good to think about these things, and his fingers were moving so fast along the fretboard that one trip would have meant they both would fall.

But then it was over, the chord they ended on was elongated, the tune fizzing against the clapljmg crowd. Iwaizumi stopped, and took his fingers off his guitar strings, allowing the music to linger between the musician’s a little longer. Oikawa’s head was down, his bangs covering his eyes as he nudged a little closer to Iwaizumi. “Aren't you going to wave to your crowd~?” God he hated him.

“No. Why would I do that it's just some people in a park.” Oikawa turned and gave a little wave, as the crowd had began to part; Iwaizumi had already put his guitar in his case, and shut it.

“But they're applauding our music.”

 _Our_. He was right, obviously Oikawa just wanted to bask in attention, but hearing it was from both of them made Iwaizumi’s stomach twist in delight. “Look- you owe me a coffee.” He said, picking up his case, and whipping it against his back.

“Aw, I thought you would forget… Well I don't have any money, but luckily the crowd left enough change for some.”

“What?! Oikawa, return that money, what the hell, was this your plan all along?”

Oikawa tapped his nose mischeviously, his violin already in his case and the change shimmering against the newly harsh sun in the sky. “What can I say, _Iwa-chan_ , we’re talented…”

Iwaizumi huffed, and shook his head, trying to get Oikawa's twisted personality figured.

#

"You need to take your painkillers." He reminded, just as he had began to walk, and Oikawa's head tilted. "H-how," He gave a cough, bringing himself a little higher again as he walked alongside him. "How did you remember that?" Iwaizumi ignored the urge to look over at him, and continued to walk, "The more I'm getting to know you, the more I'm remembering, I guess, like I'd forget that you have a faulty knee." Oikawa was still a little shocked, but gave him a little nudge as they strode. "Aww, Iwa-chan..." He said, giving a smirk. "Getting attached to lil' old me, hey?" Iwaizumi grunted, and shouldered him, Oikawa grimacing and holding his shoulder in pain, before realising he continued to walk without him. "So mean, Iwa-chan!" He called, trying to catch up with his long strides toward the dominant smell of coffee and bliss.

_I don't care who you are, but the deeper I’m getting, the more I’m knowing, the more I’m beginning to fall for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE GAY.  
> Jk! I hope you enjoyed, and I'm sorry I keep making them so fucking long? The next chapter probably isn't going to be as long to be honest because I have my GCSEs starting and I am probably going to fail and not make it to college, bUT ANYWAY,  
> Please comment, and leave a kudos BECAUSE OML IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY?  
> id k just seeing that i have a new comment or whatever makes me so happy just hhhh  
> But yeah tysm for reading you guys are really helping me on my journey to becoming a writer tbh B)


	3. An Odd Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Iwaizumi go to the coffee shop, but something had Oikawa's eye.  
> The two continue to grow closer and closer, to the point where they're doubting they have only known each other for such a short time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Adele voice* hello....its me...  
> I kept procrastinating and falling asleep as i tried to write this chapter but i finally did it! Its a little bit shorter than usual but there's less musical terminology and just fluff and character development tbh?  
> Thank you guys so much for all the comments and stuff?? I wasn't expecting my fics to be this popular? It seriously means so much it gives me so much motivation to continue my work? Thank you so much ;u;

A rockstar opposite a violinist in a coffee shop. It was an odd scenario, especially for the fact Oikawa hadn’t stopped staring at Iwaizumi through his frames; his fingers were latched around a spoon as he absentmindedly stirred the most expensive coffee available in the shop. His nose crinkled, as Iwaizumi looked over at him -- he finally broke the stare, his chocolate eyes hazing with discomfort as he brought the mug to his lips and took a swig, the sugary drink coating his throat and making his breath sugary; no wonder he acted so sickly all the time. “What the fuck is up with you?” The guitarist stirred, his bitter black coffee now in contact with his lips making him savour the sapidity of the beverage around his taste buds, enhancing his sourness as he placed the mug down. “I’m just wondering your capability…” Oikawa drifted off, his fingers clasping the spoon delicately as circled it around the mawkish coffee, the nostalgia of their music from before still biting goosebumps into his skin.

“What, what do you mean?” An eye narrowed a little, as a brow raised, his frozen over eyes thawing at Oikawa’s bubbly laugh that played a cute tune through his throat.

“When I was listening to your music, Iwa-chan~!” Oikawa gave a smile, his fingers draping off his spoon before landing on the table, his lanky legs kicking him to lean back slightly on the back legs of his chair. “Oh God, I get it, you hate rock music, leave me alo-”

“-Iwa-chan, that's not what I’m going on about.” Oikawa frowned, his eyes rolling as he allowed his chair to stumble back onto four legs. “I loved it, really begrudgingly, but I did really like it…”

Iwaizumi arched a brow, then placed the mug against the table surface, his elbow resting itself on the table too, and his chin perched in his palm. “You did? That surprises me, what happened to it making your ears bleed?”

“A lot of things.” Oikawa replied, his nose crinkling as Iwaizumi let out a huff, and his eyes rolled from right to left, however they were softer than before, less dark lit and more enhanced by the light of conversation.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, placing his hands limp at his sides as his words spewed off his lips. Iwaizumi was regretting coming to this coffee shop, he couldn't stand these constant questions -- Oikawa wasn’t like a child, he _was a ch_ ild. “What, what the fuck do you-”

“Did you write your lyrics? For your band?” Iwaizumi’s fingers clenched at his vexing words. “Maybe, why? Why do you need to know that, Tooru Oikawa?”

"Because I loved this words, even at my first listen those words spoke to me, and seeing your arrangement of the piece we did, I’m guessing you wrote the lyrics too for ‘Eternal Thoughts’, hm~?” Oikawa hummed cheekily, his eyes shutting as he tilted his head to convey a general sweetness -- Iwaizumi didn't buy it.

“Oikawa, if you're going to seriously fucking point out how soppy those words are I-”

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa interrupted, oddly without his sentimental sugary facade taking over his words. Iwaizumi stopped, just before he was about to burst into an angry frenzy.

“Your words really spoke to me, Iwa-chan…” His saccharine act was back, but the guitarist didn’t mind because something about him seemed so sincere. It might have been the way his eyes had another layer of glaze over because of his branded glasses, or because his smile was hunched up perfectly in the corner of his lips rather than just having painted a smirk to arch his mouth. “How, it was just-”

“I know what it was but, it really moved me. Thank you.” Oikawa’s head dropped, his ashen flicked hair falling upon his face as he looked back at the creamy nostalgia of his drink.

“Uh, thanks, I guess?” Iwaizumi replied, looking confused as Oikawa remained looking away, blowing against the cream in his mug, almost like trying to blow his troubles away too.

#

_Iwa-chan have you heard of this piece called surprise symphony????? we could so do an arrangement, and at the SURPRISING bits u come in with your guitar( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ_

_Why are you texting me, I’m right next to you._

Oikawa was sat stretched out on the bus seat, his tongue resting outside the corner of his mouth as concentration etched away at his face, his thumbs hammering on the keyboard, and the vibrations against the keys spoke back like a xylophone. “Why do you look so intent? You could just-”

“Shhh! Iwa-chan, I’m trying to message someone important.” Iwaizumi looked down at Oikawa again, his frames had fell from his face and rested on the slight curve of his nose, instinctively, Iwaizumi leaned over and pushed them up, resulting in a waving hand from Oikawa.

“Sent!” He said, shattering the brief pause, his hand with his phone encased in dropping to rest on his thigh. A vibration collided against Iwaizumi’s ass; his phone was in his back pocket by now, and at the sensation, the guitarist looked over with angrily narrowed eyes, his irises deflated with pure aggravation, which just derived. “Oikawa, I’m not checking it.”

“How do you know it was me, Iwa-chan~?” Oikawa asked teasingly, his lips pushed forward, and his hand raised to form a small peace sign, which made Iwaizumi pull back and cringe. “I watched you type out that fucking message.”

“You better check it… It could be your manager.” He gave faint suggestions as he tried to curl his Iwa-chan around his finger, giving a suggestive grin and a slight eyebrow wiggle.

“You're really strange, you know that?”

Oikawa’s beatific face pulled away, and the corner of his lip scrunched into his nose in displeasure. “So mean… Always ruining my fun.”

“I've known you for a day, how am I ‘always ruining’ your fun?” Iwaizumi asked, a bite coaxing Oikawa in then snapping him away to fold his arms. “It may have only been a day, Iwa-chan, but it has felt like years!”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to reply, but his mind stalled, and his thoughts melted into an odd sense of realisation. Oikawa Tooru, he had only known him for such a short time, and here they were, playing duets, teasing each other like best friends who’d been there for each other since birth, Iwaizumi even looked down and felt calefaction crawling to his face as their legs were crossed together, Oikawa’s muscled calves almost trapping him where he sat. Quickly, he moved his leg away, and turned his face to the window, but his eyesight was always drawn to the slight reflection of the setter.

“Iwa-chan, you said you did a lot of sport in high school, what did you do?” Oikawa’s sugary sweet voice smashed Iwaizumi’s thoughts, hence making him turn around and break into a knew thought.

“Everything. Soccer, football, baseball, but my favourite was volleyball-”

“- _Volleyball_?” Oikawa repeated, the reminiscence of the sport curdling his thoughts and bringing a smile to his lips. “What position?” The violinist suddenly started to seem really eager, the patronising tone and manipulative breaking words seemed to be put at rest while genuine bliss was worn like foundation against his skin. “Spiker, I was the ace, we never got anywhere though, our team had no backbone, and our setter was shit.”

“Really? What a coincidence, I was the setter! With me, you would have been the perfect ace.”

“It was high school, I don’t care about it anymore, there's a reason I gave up, it was just to pass the time I guess.”

“Hm, well I would have continued but my knee got pretty bad! And I had to pick between sport and violin, and violin wins all the way!” Oikawa brought his fists together like a child, and gave an earnest smile.

Iwaizumi replied with a shrug, as his back moved closer to the back of the bus seat, as his head flung back. His eyes slowly drifted over so Oikawa was back in his field of vision. “Take your pain killers.” Iwaizumi reminded him, and Oikawa seemed alerted. “Shit, you're right, do you have water?”

Iwaizumi reached into his guitar case laying on the floor and pulled out a bottle of water, handing the bottle to Oikawa who opened it then looked at the guitarist for clarification. “Take it, keep it, I don't care.” He replied to the stare like a mind reader.

Oikawa reached into his pockets and got out a prescribed packet of pain killers, before quickly popping out a tablet and placing it on his tongue. He brought the bottle to his lips and glugged it down, washing away the medicine with one glug. “Thanks, Iwa-chan! If you didn't remind me that would have really killed, I don't know how I survived with out you…” He put the packet back in his pocket and brought his hands together to give a quiet laugh. “Seriously though, thank you.”

That was odd. His voice sounded so genuine, no added Oikawa-tease, or words lathered in sarcasm.

“No problem, c’mon, this is your stop.”

 #

“Are you sure you don't want to come in, Iwa-chan? It's on the top floor, I have a great view.” Oikawa waited outside his apartment door, and Iwaizumi’s eyes were furrowed, his hands buried in his pockets. “No.” He sounded so flat, and honest, and a little part of Oikawa felt like it had began to rot with just that answer.

“Maybe next time~?” He asked, turning to the door, and bringing his head around in waiting for a reply. “Maybe. I’m seeing you tomorrow anyway, good night, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi turned upon his heel and strode away, his shoulders looked so loose, and his head was perked up just so that you could see the confidence engaging around him. His skin looked so natural against the setting sun as his body growing further away just became based on the memory in Oikawa’s mind.

#

A vibration played against the mattress upon Oikawa’s bed, and the screen lit up, bouncing against the darkness of the walls, and reflecting against the natural shine of the violinist’s locks. Pout equipped, Oikawa reached for his phone, and answered the call instantly, placing the receiver to his ear.

“ _Oikawa_?” Anyone could recognise that voice from anywhere. The orotund gravelly voice was like sandpaper against Oikawa’s ears, and made his heart beat to count how long he had left to live. “ _Ushijima_ , it's 2am.” Oikawa’s voice sounded unusually stern, his lip curled in pure agitation; even the breathing in the background made Oikawa recoil in embitterment. “It is a matter of seriousness, Shiratorizawa has been asked to perform in the composer Konji Kondo’s concert in two weeks time, we have pieces available, and someone your standard could easily sight read upon the night, but someone of your talent could do great things for us as an orchestra,” Tiredness didn't usually hit Oikawa until later on during the night, but the bags below his eyes grew deeper against his droning low voice.

“If you are free, it would be wise if you-”

“Sorry, I’m already performing in that concert.” Oikawa sneered, a smirk cornering his lips as the feeling of self satisfaction bubble around his stomach.

“You're performing something else? Is it a violin solo?” Concern threaded its way through Ushijima’s racous voice, contrasting highly in Oikawa’s singsong tone.

“No, I’m doing a violin and guitar duet with Hajime Iwaizumi, the lead guitarist from the Black Moon.”

A pause went through the line, and it was exactly what Oikawa was aiming for, he just wanted to see Ushijima’s suffering face on the other line, he just wanted to shove all those times he has claimed that Oikawa’s worthless pride had brought a waste to all his talent.

“...you're joking.” It wasn't a question, the tone of Ushijima’s voice made him sound so certain, like he knew for sure, but Oikawa sat up, his eyes wide, and rather scary, his grin wide and his teeth showing, confidence biding his every movement with a competitive bite.

“No? Why would I joke? You think I’m throwing around my ‘ _worthless pride'_  again? Oh, _Ushijima-chan_ , you're the one who is going to be surprised here. I- we sound amazing.” He grinned, taking in every silence from the other line and feeding it to his growing ego.

“You should have come to Shiratorizawa.” He said, making Oikawa bite his teeth together again. “Listen, if you're not fucking impressed with what we prepare, you can take me out to dinner, and I’ll come to your shitty orchestra, sound fair?!” Oikawa braced himself in the next silence, he could just see Ushijima from the end of the line, probably stood up stalking him from the hallway corridor of his own apartment as he spoke.

“Fine. Good night, Oikawa.” The phone cut dead, and Oikawa was left with the unstoppable adrenaline fueling him like coffee. He couldn't wait to show him, he couldn't wait to show how well him and Iwaizumi could play -- as much as the two had started off so cold, Oikawa enjoyed playing with Hajime, he really did, it felt so natural to play alongside him despite their obvious mutual differences, everything just felt right, and everything sounded good.

Oikawa closed his eyes, his hand pulling on the bottom hem of his baggy alien shirt which clung loosely to his toned chest. His imagination sprawling against the white walls of his room and painting them with a rainbow. His eyes opened, and he grew a small smile. “That's s great idea.” He said aloud, grabbing his phone and placing in his headphones before putting on another Black Moon album - this one was about standing up to every time you fail, which Oikawa himself found hard to do without the further encouragement of a second party, who in this case, was Hajime Iwaizumi.

‘ _Whoever you're against, how many times we fail, I’ll always be at your side, death do us part I’m not letting go._ ’ The lyrics became null in Oikawa’s head as he began to close his eyes into a deep sleep.

#

“You never guess who rang me last night.” Oikawa said, like a gossiping girl to her girl-pals. Iwaizumi seemed more than disinterested; he sat on his usual chair in their studio, his fingers twisting the tuning pedals as he tuned them by ear.

“Obama.” He said monotonously, his eyebrows furrowed and lips stitched into a scowl.

“What? Iwa-chan, at least pretend to be interested…”

“Fine, dinosaur legs?” He asked, turning around to see Oikawa who looked rather impressed with his answer.

“Yep! It was 2am, and he had the cheek to call me, I was disgusted.” Oikawa’s lip curled in some sort of disgust, then his eyes trailed up to lock with Iwaizumi, his eyes trailing around his mien, in such horrid lighting his skin still looked good, and his hair still looked well tamed, not as good as Oikawa’s own hair, but still something Oikawa’s fingers had the urge to run through. His eyes then glazed over his shoulders, the muscles were so perfect, and peachy, it was obvious he worked out a lot, but they seemed so tense.

“And he asked if I was available for the concert we are doing, and I was like ‘hell no’!” Oikawa sat himself back a little, his hands gliding back against the carpet so he could flex his own stomach. “And then he said all that stuff about wasting my potential! I hate him. I just want to shove that cello on a rocket and send it to the sun, preferably with Ushijima in it too.”

“You really hate him, huh.” Iwaizumi sighed, the boredom drawn on his features obvious to someone who was blind.

“Mmhm… Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi grunted, giving a lacklustre stum of his guitar, his fingers plucking the frets again. “What now?!”

“You look tense, how about I give you a shoulder massage?” Oikawa looked over at his violin, the wood perfectly glittering against the fogged lighting.

“How about we just play a fucking song?” Iwaizumi suggested, growing a little more frustrated, and this blew through the roof as he to see Oikawa now behind him. “C’mon, Iwa-chan! Let me treat you! I’m a professional~!”

“You're also a professional violinist, and that's what you're here to do so-”

Iwaizumi was interrupted by his arms dropping to his sides, his sockets loosened as Oikawa’s soft palms began dripping into his shoulders. It was odd. The only thing holding up his guitar was the strap around one of his shoulders which Oikawa reached to take off and place upon his waist. “Tell me if you want anything in particular.” Oikawa whispered, his face leaning closer to Iwaizumi’s ear, which tingled at the sweet honeyed tone.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi went to complain, but what was there to complain about, Oikawa’s thumbs perfectly rubbed circles into his shoulder blades, and his fingers almost worked as much magic that he created upon his violin strings. A contented sigh broke through a newly created part in his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut, his thoughts bubbled in his mind and soon popped in relaxation. “That good?” Oikawa asked, it did sound teasing, like he’d got his own way becuse he was procrastinating when they should be practicing, and Iwaizumi hated that, but Oikawa did know how to make him feel good. A small hum played a sweet major chord through his vocals, and Oikawa let out a small chuckle, resulting in Iwaizumi tensing up again.

Oikawa’s delicate fingers scrabbled under Iwaizumi’s scapula, resulting in Iwaizumi's breath hitching and catching in haste as he tried to take another sharp breath, it felt so good, and he fell slightly into the touch; the violinist’s hands then kneaded the shoulders like dough, making his Iwa-chan like putty in his hands, his breaths were shaky, and for some reason his face began to grow a little darker.

Cheerfully, Oikawa scraped his hands down his spine, then pulled away with a smile. “See, you're relaxed now.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes opened, and he looked over at Oikawa, he wanted to say he wasn't right, but he was, his back felt so much softer, his body felt so right against Oikawa’s hands, despite the redness pressing against his face. “Fine, you're right, thanks.”

“I expect you to pay me back some time~!” Oikawa chirped, bringing his body back to the floor by his resting violin, quickly picking it up and slotting it between his shoulder. “I expect you to be ready for the concert, and that's not happening.”

“See, this is why you're so stressed, Iwa-chan…” Oikawa whispered, his fingers enclosed around the end of his bow before quickly playing along it, his tongue pressing on his top lip while he gave a slight smirk to the scowling Iwaizumi. “Have you took your painkillers?”

Oikawa felt suprised again, he glanced over at Iwaizumi who was placing the strap back over his loosened shoulders, heat crawled onto his cheeks and ignited his face, and his heart etched in some sort of worthwhile pain. “Uhm, no! I'll take some after this song, thank you for remembering though! You're the only one who ever has!”

“Well, how many times people have failed, I’ll always be by your side…” There was a pause, and Oikawa blinked, the awkwardness only building up the colour coming to his face. “-because I have no choice, as that was the deal of this thing… C’mon let's play already.”

_Whoever you're against, how many times we fail, I’ll always be at your side, death do us part I’m not letting go._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn iwaizumi that's gay  
> Tysm for reading! Next chapter asap! Leave a comment or kudos or however this site works if u want! ^o^


	4. Play With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa finally takes Iwaizumi home, and convinces him to play a duet by ear of one of his band's softer songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back, back back  
> back again, 'gain 'gain  
> I AM BACK BACK  
> TELL A FRIEND  
> sorry omg i wrote a fic while procrastinating this one and it got more notice? Tbh im a little sad because I've worked so hard developing the AU and characters for this fic but oh well!  
> I hope you enjoy!

Shoulder against shoulder, Iwaizumi kept his perception glued upon the floor of the bus, while Oikawa’s vision wavered, his chocolate eyes melting into the atmosphere as the cold nibbled against his skin, bringing up goosebumps. He shivered, then flung his head on his free shoulder, moving their tangled legs away from each other; the two weren't sure why their legs always ended up tied, but the body on body contact was some reassurance for Oikawa, as Iwaizumi was hardly speaking at the moment. He tried to look a little further, discover the connotations of his focused glare -- maybe Oikawa didn't play well enough?

“Uhm… Uh, excuse me?” The voice was meek but unexpected, and crashed Oikawa’s train of thought -- her tone soft and a shy smile was perched upon her pinkish lips, her hair was golden, and fell from her head, naturally curling in the final day’s sun. “Uh… Are you Iwaizumi? Hajime Iwaizumi? The one who was playing the guitar at the park yesterday?”

Oikawa’s eyebrows furrowed, letting a cough through his throat before adjusting his stance, show his taller stature in comparison to the guitarist who has only just lit to a focus. “Huh? Oh yeah, what of it-?”

“And I’m Oikawa, Oikawa Tooru, I was the one accompanying him, well, I say that but I’d say in that piece I had the melody, so it would be vice-versa!” Oikawa looked so pleased with himself, his eyes were boastfully shut, and his lips pressed together, he couldn't help it, he couldn't let a rockstar take the shine away from what really mattered, himself.

“Oh, uh! Hi!” She seemed a little hesitant, her cheeks growing into a rose as her eyes looked back at Iwaizumi before hurling her arms forward; her hands gripped onto a frilly envelope, decorated with small stickers of cute fruit and other cartoons -- Iwaizumi looked up, and gave a smile, it was small, but it was a large difference to the gorm-like expression pushed upon his features previously. “Thanks, is this-”

“J-just, just take it!” Her head bowed forward, her hair flowing like a curtain to conceal her ignited face. “Th-thank you!” Hastily, her head still propped to the floor, she glided down the aisle and went off the bus, her stop luckily their to break the awkwardness which was now passed onto the duo.

“What the fuck was that?!” Oikawa pulled his lips into an aggressive pout, and his arms twisted into an arm fold. “A secret admirer?” One of his eyes opened, and glanced over at Iwaizumi’s cheeks, they were ever so tinctured a garnet which resulted in Oikawa’s heart strangling itself with lack of oxygen. “Wow, I guess you want to go solo? Is that it? Cancel the project to live with YOUR secret admirer?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes rumpled up together into slits, “Oikawa… You okay there?”

‘Am… Am I jealous?’ Oikawa’s mind ached, a migraine circulating more of his head and infecting his thoughts with a stinging pain. ‘Why would I be jealous, she probably can’t even play an instrument.’

Iwaizumi struck Oikawa from the side, who flinched back and held his arm in a wince, “Iwa-chan, your arms are the build of my legs, that's not fair.”

“Then stopping being jealous, I don't even want this fanmail anyway, I do music for the music.”

“You do it for me too, don't you, Iwa-chan~?” Oikawa almost purred, his words engrossing around his tongue as he leaned in, his migraine fading as Iwaizumi’s words somehow acted like medicine to cure his envy.

“You wish, Trashkawa.” Iwaizumi spat, aggressively nudging the violinist to a stumble. “You're so horrible, Iwa-chan, you have to repay me with an extra practice in my apartment.” Oikawa sat himself up, his shoulders rolling back as a smirk smeared itself across his pursed lips. “Fine, sure, I’ve got time.”

 

#

 

 

“Why did you pick the top floor?” Iwaizumi’s back leant against the elevator wall, the noises of the passing floors clipping against the corner of his ears.

“I like performing high.”

Iwaizumi’s head shot to him, misinterpreting the said statement. “Oikawa what the fuck, what does that have anything to do with that? And how hasn't your violin broken yet? I’m surprised you didn't think it was a sandwich or something and ate it.”

“I… I don't mean literally high, Iwa-chan…” A sigh shot like a bullet through his lips as his head fell back on the opposite elevator wall. “Playing against the sky as your scenery? Don't you think it paints the imagination?” His head flicked back up, his eyes coated with a mysterious veneer of something: cockiness, pleasure, or even desire, Iwaizumi couldn't tell, but the way Oikawa flicked up his hands and gave an almost manic smile; he looked obsessed, and it made Iwaizumi palpitate just so it could be controlled. “You're messed up,” Iwaizumi said, looking over his porcelain features again, a plentiful dusting of cheekiness fading back into his sugary smile. “You know it, Iwa-chan~!” Just as Oikawa’s arms dropped lifelessly, the elevator pinged. “Here we are!”

The elevator doors opened, revealing a hallway full of around 5 apartments, it was obviously the wealthiest floor, and the colours gravely contrasting from Iwaizumi’s own flat. Swiftly, Oikawa walked over to a room, the door was painted a light cyan and white, his hand enclosed around the golden door knob and opened it, the brightness burning from the sun making Iwaizumi flinch and throw his arm to cover his eyes. “How big to you need your windows?! Do you keep that balcony open all the time?”

Oikawa just smiled, adjusting his violin before taking it off his back and slipping his palm in to hold the handle. “You should practice on the baloney with me, Iwa-chan~! Trust me, it sounds even better up there…”

Iwaizumi’s eyes scrunched together, and he followed the violinst who was heading toward the open balcony.

 

#

 

It was growing darker, the sun’s setting colours melting into the clouds like a sundae. Oikawa’s violin rested upon his shoulder, his fingers clasped around the end of his bow, Iwaizumi stood up, looking extremely uncomfortable in this less than modest setup; Oikawa looked like he was performing to the audience of clouds, and it made Iwaizumi cringe, what an asshole.

“So, what do you wanna play?” Oikawa asked, his bow running along the strings faintly, echoing the sweet sound in the arch of his balcony. “Well we did jack shit in rehearsal today, so we need to make up for that.” The strap of Iwaizumi’s guitar dug into the back of his neck, the red mark caressing a burning against his skin. “I prefer your acoustic guitar, I’m glad you brought it.”

“I don't, electric is way better.” Iwaizumi clenched a fist, kicking his leg up to rest the base of his guitar upon his thigh. “Why did you bring your acoustic then, idiot.” Oikawa said, his eyes narrowing as they locked upon the aggravated Iwaizumi. “It's lighter.”

“But your muscles, Iwa-chan… You could probably carry three electric guitars.” Something about Iwaizumi’s furrowed brows and gritted teeth conveyed the idea of an urge to throw Oikawa off the balcony, luckily he was trapped with some sort of restraint.

“RIGHT.” His voice bellowed, and bounced off the entrance to the outside, the brunette flinched, the shout hitting him like a punch. Oikawa stood there for a moment, his bottom lip naturally folding as the pause stung an odd sensation in his stomach.

“....Iwa-chan?”

“If this isn't about a piece I’m throwing you and that shitty violin off this balcony.”

Oikawa’s brows dropped, one hand falling limp but still grasping around the handle of the bow. “So mean…” Lightly, his head turned toward the sky, the reflection of the scenary playing upon his irises. “Can we play one of your songs?”

“...Huh?” The guitarist’s eyes grew a little wider, his brows complimenting his surprised expression by arching, then lowering into a confused scowl. “You're joking, right?”

“You need to stop thinking I’m joking… I know I’m funny but…” Oikawa’s face turned, the reflection altering to mirror Iwaizumi’s confusion upon his glistening optics. “I’m serious. Your lyric writing and playing… You're really talented, not as much as I am but-”

Oikawa was interrupted by Iwaizumi reaching over and hitting him over the head, making Oikawa go back and hold his head. “I was being nice!”

“Your nice isn't nice.” Oikawa replied with a pout, then turned away. “Do you have sheet music, or not?” Oikawa asked, just turning his head to see Iwaizumi locked in thought, his face smooth against the setting sun.

“Not on me. We could play a simple piece? I’m sure the ‘Great Oikawa Tooru’ could figure it out.” He taunted, letting a loose strum evaporate into the air.

“Sure, which piece?” Oikawa asked, tilting his head curiously, his face painted with some type of wonder while Iwaizumi wandered in thought. “What’s your favourite?” A silence bestowed the two. The slight wind bringing goosebumps upon their skin in cold, as the satisfying silence sew an odd loop between them.

“...I like I’ll Stand With You.”

Another pause threaded the air, wallowing in the slight breeze that flicked away Oikawa’s brunette locks, they just stood for a moment, until Iwaizumi’s head flicked away. “That's like the worst one, Oikawa.”

“Shuuut up! The lyrics are beautiful, Iwa-chan~!” Oikawa haunted vexingly, his head leaning in teasingly as his bow dripped along his A string. “Right, if you want to play that, we’re gonna have to do it by ear, you have the melody, I’ll do everything else.”

“Call and response solo in the middle?” Oikawa asked arching his eyebrows suggestively. “You really like making things difficult, don't you, Asskawa?”

“That's a new one.” His face shrivelling in antipathy, but grew lax as his eyes ghosted over Iwaizumi’s body, latching onto his bare arms.

“Let's go.” Oikawa finally submerged, his bow raising and tapping along the four strings.

 

#

_Grave._

Iwaizumi’s fingers clasped themselves together, his thumb and index fingers circulating around the dashed chords, broken up into a slow yet breathtaking ostinato. Oikawa watched in bewilderment, his eyes tracing over his working hard fingers and glancing over his face; how was it so the sun perfectly settled his skin to perfection? Oikawa tensed, allowing the riff to soothe the intensity of Iwaizumi’s angelic movements.

Every pluck caught the air off guard, but Iwaizumi anticipated every one perfectly, his face relaxed and poised with no troubles, no stress, like every wrinkle earned had faded and just left the true look of human happiness. Oikawa’s head up a little, raising his chin as the music continued to whisper around ear and scrape along his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps pimpling his skin pleasantly. A shudder added a counter melody as it played like a glockenspiel down his back. Iwaizumi looked over at him, his eyes hazy, and it made Oikawa like putty within his frets. After a large breath, the two joined.

_Tutti._

_Oikaw_ a dragged his bow along his strings, his thoughts at wonder with the lyrics of the song, and something pained his chest, despite the ache, he continued, embracing in the light pain almost. His fingers darted along, the singer’s voice echoing back the tune as he regurgitated it, his fingers almost high on power. His eyes shut, as a picture began sketching on the canvas of his mind, each semibreve a long stroke from a brush, and each pause a lift of the easel.

Iwaizumi would not have minded standing where he did until the sun completely hid itself under the horizon, he didn't mind the repetitive riffs, or the blistering enkindled sensation seizing his finger tips.

Oikawa’s face always looked so pure whilst playing.

The verse flowed into a chorus, and their music winded into one, it was odd how Oikawa could turn Iwaizumi's music so soft, but it was also odd how Iwaizumi made Oikawa's music so sharp -- the perfect combination.

However, they both ended early, Iwaizumi letting loose an open bar chord, and Oikawa sending his bow sharply down his strings. "Oikawa, go take your pain killers." Iwaizumi spoke flatly, his head turned over to Oikawa who lay an arm loose. "Aww, how did you even know?"

"Your standing began to wobble, and your notes trembled causing a really light tremolo. It's hurting you to stand." Iwaizumi took the strap of his guitar away from his shoulders and placed his guitar upon the floor, moving over to Oikawa and placing his violin and bow in his case. Quickly, he ducked under and swerved his arm under his shoulder to support him. "My hero." Oikawa joked, falling subconsciously into Oikawa's muscled touch. "Yeah, yeah."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaah! I hope you enjoyed! Leave kudos or whatever! Tysm for ever comment? Comments literally give me motivation and mean so fucking much to me so just, aaah ty!<3

**Author's Note:**

> There it is,  
> That is probably the longest first chapter I've ever written ngl,  
> I hope you enjoy, and I'll try and write the next chapter ASAP!  
> And feel free to leave comments or kudos or whatever?


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